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Wednesday, March 25, 2015

Originally on Flickr. On 21 September 1918,
Magistrate J.G.Hewitt released the report of his Magisterial Inquiry
into the treatment of conscientious objectors imprisoned at Wanganui
Detention Barracks. Believing strict discipline would 'reform' those who
objected to military service on socialist or religious grounds, the
detention barracks were set up in March 1918. Less than two months
later, however, 'NZ Truth' published allegations of mistreatment by
guards and the camp's commandant, Lieutenant J.L.Crampton.

As
the authority on conscription, Paul Baker, notes, "Prisoners who would
not wear the uniform were forcibly dressed… [and] pushed, pulled,
kicked, and punched around what Crampton called the 'slaughter yard.'
Some were pulled with a rope round the neck, and repeatedly pushed into
walls until their faces resembled 'raw steak'.

Concerned
about the allegations, Defence Minister James Allen launched a
Magisterial enquiry in June. The enquiry collected large amounts of
statements from objectors and guards, and found the allegations in the
main to be true. "Although it was too carefully administered to leave
much evidence" notes Baker, "Hewitt concluded that 'severe punishment'
had been used." Yet due the hysteria of the day, in some quarters
Crampton's actions were celebrated. The Egmont County Council
congratulated him on methods 'no Britisher would object to." Encouraged,
Crampton demanded a military court martial, and with the RSA as his
council, he was found not guilty of 11 charges of ill-treatment.

Archives
New Zealand holds the evidence collected by the Magisterial Inquiry,
including full statements, drawings of the location of blood stains, and
remarkably, these two photographs of Wanganui inmate and Irish-born
objector, Thomas Moynihan, undergoing punishment. Moynihan had refused
to drill, so according to his statement, he was stripped, beaten,
forcibly put in uniform, and taken to the 'slaughter yard'. A rifle was
then tied to his wrist, but as Moynihan refused to hold it, the gun kept
slipping down. Guards allegedly smashed it several times against the
side of his face "till the blood was streaming down." It was finally
attached to his shoulder, and he was pushed, punched and forced around
the yard for close to an hour, only stopping to have these photographs
taken. In them you can see the string around his wrist, the wall inmates
were allegedly pushed into, and shading on the concrete pavement that
could possibly be blood. Despite his treatment, Moynihan still refused
to co-operate, and apparently had no further trouble from the camp
guards after this incident.

Saturday, March 14, 2015

From Libcom.org. After the bitter experience of World War I and
the Russian Revolution, the global anarchist movement had to rethink its
approach to revolutionary change. The application of science and
technology to warfare, the "rationalization" of production, the rise of
fascism, etc., created conditions not envisaged in Kropotkin's
anarchist communist teachings, which were subjected to a thoroughgoing revision. But
Kropotkin also had his defenders, who not only insisted on the relevance
of his ideas, but also extended his critique of industrial society.
Using a wide variety of sources, Vadim Damier examines these debates,
which found their culmination in the CNT's 1936 resolution on
libertarian communism.

Wednesday, March 11, 2015

This image from Archives New Zealand shows the moment when some of the 14 conscientious objectors aboard the troopship Waitemata were taken up on deck to have their hair cut, and forced into uniforms. In July 1917 the objectors, including Mark Briggs and Archibald Baxter, had been smuggled out of Terrace Gaol in Wellington under secrecy, placed into a bare 22- by 10-foot (6.7- by 3-metre) cabin, and shipped to the Western Front. Briggs, a socialist, resisted the cutting of his hair and had to be dragged ‘his heels
rattling and bumping on the stairs first going up, then coming down.’ He
managed to jerk his head around to resist the hair-cutting, so his
cropped hair became covered with red marks from his own blood.

Unnamed anarchist from Europe [interviewer]:Particularly
in Canada, the term “First Nations” is frequently used to describe
Indigenous societies. This tends to confuse radical Europeans who
consider all references to “nations” as necessarily conservative. Can
you shed some light on the Indigenous usage of the term?Taiaike Alfred from the Mohawk Nation of Kahnawá:ke [interviewee]:
Europeans should not transpose their experience with nationhood on
others. I myself do not think the term accurately describes our people –
only our own languages and words can do that – but it is useful in a
sense; it conveys an equality of status in theory between our societies
and that of the colonizer. And it reiterates the fact of our prior
occupancy of this continent (Alfred, 2010).

The languages that we speak build walls. The English language, for
instance, is noun-based, territorial and possessive by nature. Behind
this language, however, is a distinct way of relating – one that is
exemplified by the interview excerpt above. Sharing a language does not
imply consensus or commonality. In this case, although Taiake Alfred
does not agree in full with the term ‘First Nations’, he does
differentiate First Nation and Indigenous Nationhood from European,
Westphalia conceptions of nation-state. He dually describes why, from
his perspective as a member of the Mohawk Nation from Kahnawá:ke, this
terminology resists Eurocentric impositions of governance but also
responds to colonial power-imbalances. Social movements, especially in
North America, often fall carelessly into colonial traps of Eurocentric
thought and colonial universalism, as exampled above[1]. On the surface, though, it is clear why anarchist movements and anarchic theory may be attracted to anti-colonial struggles.

Opposition to the state and to capitalism, to domination and to
oppression, are at the core of anarchist and autonomous movements; they
are also at the core of anti-colonial struggles that see the state, and
by mutual extension the capitalist system, as de-legitimate institutions
of authority that ‘Other’ and colonize by way of white supremacist
notions of cultural hegemony (see Fanon, 1967; Smith, 2006). Anarchist
movements, however, often fail to account for the multiple layers of
power that are at play, both contemporarily and historically. As Barker
(2012) critically contends, many of the Occupy sites, for example,
recolonized by uncritically occupying already occupied lands. The
settler privilege of autonomous organizers within these movements upheld
hegemonic/colonial territoriality. Romanticized for stewardship and
place-based relations to land, Indigenous peoples have even been
idolized as the ‘original’ anarchist societies (Barker & Pickerill,
2012). Indigenous Nationhood Movements actively seek to rebuild
nation-to-nation relations with settlers by re-empowering Indigenous
self-determination and traditional governments (Indigenous Nationhood
Movement, 2015). Nation-to-nation, though, cannot be taken in its
settler colonial form; indeed, this assumption concerning a homogenous
form of government was, and is, at the core of colonialism: “modern
government…the European believed, was based upon principles true in
every country. Its strengths lay in its universalism” (Mitchell, 2002:
54). Respecting Indigenous Nationhood as a culturally, politically, and
spiritually distinct movement propelled by and for Indigenous peoples is
integral. Reasons for and tactics in support of these movements may
vary, however they inevitably overlap in many offensives with anarchist
anti-authoritarian agendas.

With Eurocentric understandings of an anti-colonial anarchism at the
core of many activist oriented renditions of such thinking, activists
and scholars alike have heeded words of advice to those amidst struggles
against colonial forces in settler colonial contexts. As stated by
Harsha Walia in discussing autonomy and cross-cultural, colonial-based
struggle:

“Non-natives must recognize our own role in perpetuating colonialism
within our solidarity efforts. We can actively counter this by…
discussing the nuanced issues of solidarity, leadership, strategy and
analysis – not in abstraction, but within our real and informed and
sustained relationships with Indigenous peoples.” (2012)

By respecting difference, even spatializing autonomy, settler peoples
would do well to not transplant – to settle – their perceptions of
autonomy, of solidarity, of leadership, and of strategy onto Indigenous
movements. Alternatively in settler colonial contexts, anarchist
struggles against colonial authority, and thus capitalistic systems,
invariably require respectful engagement with Indigenous movements. This
is integral if re-colonizing tendencies of anarchist
movements–oftentimes primarily driven by European settlers–are to be
prevented. Anarchist actors, especially when operating in settler
colonial spaces, must understand the nuances of place specific histories
and colonial processes. As Lasky suggests, there is “potential for
directly relating to each other and changing our relationships with each
other in ways that withdraw consent from ‘the system’ and re-creates
alternatives that empower our collective personhoods now” (2011: np). As
Alfred mentions however, Eurocentric tendencies have oftentimes
perpetuated colonial relations of power. As a result, the very
structures of oppression that anarchic thought starkly opposes, but also
stemmed from, creep into relational geographies.

Research problem: Despite a significant amount of research on archival users, only a small number of studies have focused solely on the non-user. This study investigated non-user understandings of archives in Aotearoa New Zealand to learn about their awareness of archives, perceptions of accessibility and use, and views on an archives’ purpose and societal role. This included whether non-users valued archives and what this said about the democratic archival contract.

Methodology: A qualitative research design influenced by critical theory was employed. Eight non-user samples of individuals over the age of 18 were purposively selected within the population of Aotearoa New Zealand, covering variables of geographical location, socio-economic status, education, gender, age, and ethnicity. Three activist samples were also included. Data were collected by semi-structured interviews and analysed thematically.

Results: While their image of an archive was generally accurate and positive, participants had little knowledge of how they were organised. Archives were highly valued and viewed as accessible places for those who needed it, but with clear differences to other institutions. These differences prevented half of the sample with a need to use an archive from doing so. The archival contract was generally accepted, but was problematized in terms of access and cultural bias.

Implications: The findings support the view that understandings of archives greatly influence use. Although limited to a small and geographically specific sample, this study enables archives to know more about potential users, and design, target and implement outreach in order to raise awareness and increase use.

Introduction:
User studies in archival research have become a major topic over the last six decades (Chowdhury & Chowdhury, 2011, p.25). Despite one definition of user studies as ‘investigations of the use and users (including non-users and potential users and users) of documents, information, communication channels, information systems and information services’ (Hjorland, 2000), only a small number of studies have focused solely on the non-user. As a result, there is a distinct lack of information and research-based studies on archival non-users, including in Aotearoa New Zealand. It is simply not known how non-users perceive the accessibility and purpose of the country’s numerous archives.

The same can be said of the relationship between non-use and the often-cited societal outcomes of formal archives. How effective are objectives such as ‘efficient and effective government’, ‘trusted and accountable government’, and ‘nationhood and social cohesion’ (Archives New Zealand, 2010) if the archive is not used, or even valued? Such questions also problematise the democratic archival contract: the assumed ‘agreement between archivists and society’ (Hamilton, Harris & Reid, 2002, p.16). Is this agreement reciprocal?

‘If we accept the premise that archives play a public role in modern society,’ note Blais & Enns, ‘we must consider the perceptions people have of archives’ (1990, p.104). This study focuses on the non-user of archives in Aotearoa New Zealand, in order to contribute to the present knowledge gap around archival non-users and their understandings of archives.